The Swordlands

As meteors blazed across the sky the icy mountain ranges all around the Crown of Byfrost glowed in the fire that covered the heavens. Having slain the spawn of three legendary monsters of Faerie, the adventurers had severed the planar conjunction formed from ancient bloodlines and saved the Feywild from sharing the same fate as the one in which they had fought and shed blood for the last year.

Now, having chosen to remain in this doomed world to witness Ragnarok, and to ensure that the savage warlord Siegmund did not sieze the salvation of Byfrost for his own ends, Master Gnome Death Dealer Karl ter Aelrinnath, Warforged Einherjar The Promise of Distant Thunder, Half Drow, Half Eladrin Swordmage Aengus Conleadh and his Drow father, the swordsman Dian Cecht stood poised to do battle with their final adversary.

It was apparent now that there lay a greater threat to the future of the next age of this strange and distant world than that of the tyrant Siegmund. A monster of epic proportions had arisen from within the ranks of the Einherjar themselves, the Warforged guardians of the Crown of Byfrost. Rivenhart, soldier of the ‘Legion That Waits’, had seen the most brutal and bloody wars that humanity had ever fought and had decided that humanity needed to be saved from itself. Now on the brink of creating a world where a new breed of undead replace all life forever, Rivenhart, who had defeated many powerful enemies to save mankind long ago, readied himself for the battle for the next age.

Will Of Iron: If Rivenhart is dazed he loses his initiative 10 action. If he is stunned he also loses his intitiative 20 action.

Resilience: -1sq from any push/pull/slide effect, 1/rnd save vs any teleportation effect at +5, if he saves the effect is reversed

Accept Your Challenge: When Rivenhart is marked by a foe, the foe is marked back. Rivenhart gains 10hp. The marker cannot finish their turn further away from Rivenhart than when they placed the mark or the mark ends.

Combat Challenge: Any foe that Rivenhart hits is marked until the end of his next turn

Code of The Legion: If Rivenhart attacks a foe that is stunned, helpless, blinded or unaware of him he loses 20HP

Armour Spikes: Rivenhart can suddenly sprout dozens of razor-sharp twisting spikes from his body. Any opponent that attempts to grapple Rivenhart will automatically take 2d8 +6 damage on their turn. If he loses his sword at any point he can use these instead to make attacks. He attacks at -4, -1 dice damage, -4 damage bonus.

Basic Attack

Legionary Attack: +20 vs AC, 2d8 +12

Legionary Defence: +20 vs Fort, push 2sq

Initiative 30 (Victor Of A Hundred Thousand Battles)

Begin the turn by shifting up to 2 squares

Masterstroke: +20 vs AC, 2d8 +16, crit (18-20)

Deep Cut: +20 vs Fort, 2d8 +16, push 2sq, immobilised until end of next turn, can use as a charge

Howl tore the Legion Ghulra from Siegmund’s helmet as his body lay twitching and, standing over the Eye Of Kord, the large prism that channeled divine energy into ‘The Rainbow Bridge’, he planted it into his own brow. The Eye glowed brightly, and, from the clouds of fire above, lightning struck the Einherjar. A moment passed as the Warforged known as The Promise Of Distant Thunder, soldier of The Legion That Waits, raised himself up once more.

Karl turned to Rivenhart with a look of pity on his face. This was perhaps the first time his companions had witnessed such an expression of emotion from the Death Dealer, and, had the sky not been raining fire it would doubtless have attracted more concern.

“Rivenhart, it’s time.” spoke the Gnome, calmly. Rivenhart had been watching impassively, sword sheathed. Looking across the quartz as it shone with the flames above, The Promise Of Distant Thunder called to his brother in arms, who stood waiting.

“What have you done, Rivenhart? What has become of this place?”

“Thunder… I have failed, brother. My duty… was to wait, but I could not. It has been…. so long.

The Rainbow Bridge is the source of all divine knowledge. Our creators understood that Ragnarok would one day come, and in their wisdom they created the Bridge so that we would be mindful of the powers above. They also saw fit to create the Einherjar, warriors such as you and I, so that when the end came we would bear the salvation of mankind. As creators, nurturers, and protectors we have maintained our vigil for countless aeons. It has always been so, rebirth follows destruction, as it was since the beginning of the world.

But it has come to pass in this age that men have sought to use the bridge for their own ends, and set upon each other with sword and spear. It was the ancient kings of Thruthgelmir, Mycklegarth and Hamingjen, whose greed led to a century and a half of war. One by one the kingdoms of the land were consumed by the desire to possess the unknowable secrets of Byfrost, and one by one they destroyed themselves in a war which took this land to the edge of extinction.

We Einherjar had always served mankind. Ours was the land above the clouds, and here from the Crown we watched as humanity began to tear itself apart. We were created to protect mankind, but we could not protect it from itself. The council of the Legion met to decide on a course of action, and finally it was ordered that, as we could not fight the enemy we had sworn to protect, we would instead ´wait´, taking the secret of the Bridge with us.

The Legion disbanded, each of us taking to the farthest corners of the realm where we have remained ever since, awaiting such time as mankind would need us in the last days. Each legionary made their refuge in a hidden place, and when the call sounded we would be ready to serve once more.

From amongst the Legion I was appointed the rank of Awakener, I, a lowly acolyte whose only virtue was… patience. While all others of our kind took to the earth, I was to remain. It was my solemn duty to awaken the Einherjar when Ragnarok came, mine was to sound the call at the end of time.

And so I kept myself hidden from the eyes of men, but those were dark years. I witnessed war on a scale we never had known, and such suffering as I care not to mention. The rivers ran red with blood and the dead fell like leaves upon the fields of battle. In their desire for utter destruction men unleashed weapons that should have remained lost. The great wyrm Nidhog was the among the most terrible, but there were many so powerful that the kings themselves could not control them.

In those desperate times I saw that I had no choice but to emerge from the shadows. I began to fight. I fought countless monsters in defence of mankind, battle upon battle, death upon death. I walked through the fields of the fallen, I climbed mountains of bones, while the wind carried the cries of the dying to the worlds end. I had been ordered to wait, but I would not, I could not. I could not stand by and watch as humanity was destroyed, as all that we have strived to create and nuture was erased. Tell me Thunder, had you stood in my stead, would you not have acted? Would you not have done as I did?"

“I have seen what you have done.” replied Thunder gravely, “I would not have acted as you did.”

Aengus ventured forward. “It is admirable indeed that you should strive to save the human race, but it is what happened afterwards that we have a slight issue with.” Dian Cecht nodded thoughtfully. Karl stood by, his face still a picture of sympathy.

“It took me close to 30 long years of slaughter before I finally faced Nidhog,” continued Rivenhart, "by which time I had learned much of ending lives, more perhaps than anyone should ever know. It was I who slew the wyrm to finally bring an end to the war. But there was still much work to do, restoring order to a fractured people. If it became known what I was and the secret I carried, the Crown would once more be placed in danger, and so I walked amongst them as one of them.

We built the hall of Himinborg from Nidhog’s bones so that all would remember the folly of war, but I had gravely underestimated human nature. They wanted to make me king, imagine, a legionary made a king! I refused the throne of course and gave it instead to a human, who in all those dark years I had come to call my friend. He was a good king, and had been a loyal ally, but in time his strength failed and the throne of Himinborg fell to another, and then another. Soon, the Crown Wars were forgotten, and men looked at the newly formed Beastlands and found cause to take up arms and march once more. I sometimes wonder what would have been had I taken the throne of Himinborg all those years ago. Unlike mankind our strength does not fail, our will does not wither, and the years do not desert us like sand through a glass.

It has been 500 years since I built the hall of Himinborg and sat in the seat of the first knight, and in that time I watched as mankind reasserted itself. If they are not at war they grow restless, if they are given power they become greedy, given wealth they become jealous, and if they are free they become a danger to all around them. The council believed that we could not save mankind from itself, but I have found otherwise. I journeyed long into the underworld in contemplation, and in the darkness I learned how we could fulfill our promise. There I found Hel. She taught me her secret magic in return for my Ghulra. It was not lost, it was given. It was an easy price to pay, as my soul had died long before that day.

I had in my possession the answer to the riddle. Mankind could be saved from itself. It could be free from greed, jealousy, lust, savagery. It could be pure, free from the pains of the world and the ravages of time. I returned to the light bearing the secret of undeath, for what greater gift could a soldier grant to those he protects but immortality.

And so with this new magic I began my work. It was no simple task but without sleep nor rest I laboured for many years until I had completed my first ‘awakening’. I watched as the dead rose from their war graves. Everything that lay in the earth saw the light of day once more. I found for this new legion a purpose. I put them to watch over our brothers and sisters in case someone should come looking for them. I knew they would not understand what I was doing. I was the Awakener, but it was not the Einherjar that I would call to duty.

This was the time that men call the Curse, but it was a gift! From the bones of the dead that lay in the ground I awakened immortal beings, crude magic as it was, and imperfect. These creatures clung to the memories of their former lives and betrayed human thoughts and reasoning. This was not the creation that I had dreamed of.

My next ‘awakening’ will be better, for now my magic is much improved. I have finally learned to harness the power of the Crown, the power with which we were given time and time again to restore humanity to the land. Now I have achieved what once I only dared to imagine: undeath, with the ability to procreate, with no former human life by which it may be corrupted. I have created a new king, who shall take the next age as his own."

Rivenhart opened his chest and from where his Warforged heart should have been he produced a small bundle, which he cradled tenderly.

“When Ragnarok comes, Surtur and Thrymm will play their part and visit ruin upon the land, and then I will play mine. Into the wasteland I shall create a new legion, and mankind will dwell once more in this land, but this time there will be no more war, no more suffering. This time it will be perfect, and it is close, so close brother.

You have lived in the company of men, as I did many years ago. You have seen their bloodlust, their greed, their hunger for power, and their thirst for vengeance. What is life but desire and destruction? Why do you seek to preserve this? If this is life then life is not sacred. If this is life then I bring the gift, the gift of unlife as an answer to the riddle."

“Show me what you have made!” commanded Thunder, taking a step forward.

“Yes, I find myself curious as to what could warrant the perversion of life that we have found in the chamber below.” said Aengus.

“Very well, come close, and gaze upon perfection.” whispered Rivenhart. Carefully he revealed what appeared to be a peacefully sleeping infant. Aengus sensed a dark energy in the air around it. The companions were unsure of what to make of what they were seeing.

“At night I look to the stars,” spoke Rivenhart at length, “For it is they who speak of the coming end. The gods forged the world in war. Their fury shook the skies, the bones of the fallen made the mountains of the mortal realms, their tears filled the oceans, and from their blood were born men and beasts. As it was made so shall it be unmade. Surtur, the lord of fire, shall come. Thrymm, the lord of ice, shall follow. The great primordials are almost upon us. Fire shall fall, and Ice shall remain it’s wake. And, as ever, the Crown shall remain, and we in it. For he who holds the Crown holds the Bridge, and from the Byfrost Bridge shall the last among men watch the giants fall.”

“How exciting!” exclaimed Dian Cecht.

“This is not the answer Rivenhart,” began Aengus. “By extinguishing war, jealousy, greed and all that you claim, you sacrifice art, poetry, love, wonder, and all things that make humanity great.”

“Yes.” replied the Einherjar, flatly. “I have, but what I have made is pure and perfect yet without these things.”

“You have betrayed the Legion!” shouted Thunder, “You have betrayed every last one of our fallen brothers!”

“No, brother, I have not.” spoke Rivenhart, calmly. “I have remained true to our purpose, as I yet remain. I feared that you would not understand, and I was correct. If you will not join me in this next age, you must leave this place and face the end with your companions.”

The four companions leapt into battle with the frenzied centaur, quickly finding themselves also fending off attacks from his summoned elementals. After a few moments, Rivenhart joined the fight against the Herald Of Surtur, and proved to be a fearless and capable ally. Having been bested by the warlord once before, the adventurers had been preparing themselves for this inevitable showdown. Aengus had crafted arms and armour to protect against Siegmund’s elemental might, Howl had engineered strategies to penetrate his swift defences, and Karl had a nasty trick up his sleeve that he had been saving for just such an occasion.

The party began by bearing the brunt of Siegmund’s charges, finding themselves leaping out of the way of the walls of fire that he left in his wake. But in time they succeeded in trapping him in a corner at which point Karl activated a magical ring that rooted everyone to the spot in which they stood. At that point, there was no escape for the barbarian. From where he was trapped, Siegmund rained down a savage onslaught of attacks from his fiery axe, and his reserves of stamina seemed inexhaustible, but finally it was the Death Dealer who struck the fatal blow, and Siegmund fell to the floor, choking on his own blood.

As the doors slid open Howl, Karl, Aengus and Dian Cecht were confronted by a vision of the apocalypse as it now descended upon the Swordlands. The sky was fire. Surtur had consumed the heavens and meteors scarred the sky with trails of flame. The earth shook around them, the mountain tops trembled. Ragnarok had come, and the four companions knew now that this truly was the end of this world.

There infront of them two figures were locked in battle on the roof of the Crown of Byfrost. The first, a massively built centaur barbarian, covered in tattoes and ritual scarring, dressed in the skins of exotic animals from the Beastlands and wearing a helmet made from the skull of a Warforged Einherjar, in which was set the Legion Ghulra. This was Siegmund, feared warlord, self-proclaimed scourge of Himinborg, a savage warlock whose study of the stars had led him seek the Crown for his own end, as so many mortal kings had done before him. He wielded his flaming axe, sometimes in both hands, sometimes in one, weaving hoops of fire around him and his adversary as they fought. He was badly injured, blood stained his flanks and spattered the quartz on which they fought.

The second figure was that of a Warforged knight, a soldier of the legion, battered and dented, fighting with great skill and composure despite the ferocity of his opponent. Howl recognised this warrior as Rivenhart, who he had once known centuries ago as a brother in arms.

As the two adversaries clashed they threw each other off in a burst of fire, sending each other flying back some twenty feet apart. As they picked themselves up they noticed the four adventurers.

Emerging from the womb-orbs, a sickening array of fleshwarped monstrosities took form before their eyes. An emaciated looking humanoid, born aloft on wings of bone, came swooping across the chamber brandishing sword blades of hardened cartilege where its hands would have been. Another creature clambered across the ground on spidery limbs of rotting flesh and bone, instead of a spiders thorax hung limp corpse with arms and legs trailing lifelessly along the ground, at its head a faceful of eyes darting every which way. Other disgusting creatures slithered, crawled, staggered and lurched across the blood-stained floor of quartz towards the intruders. A swift and brutal battle ensued, in which Dian Cecht was nearly overcome by a necrotic wasting effect, until Aengus saved his father’s life by leaping with him into the pool below, where the radiant properties of the water healed him.

Finally managing to overcome Siegmunds arcane seal, the adventurers found beyond a passage that spiralled around the inside wall of the Crown, leading down to a long abandoned workshop in one direction, and leading up to a large door in the other.

The adventurers were cautious in their investigation of the chamber. At length it could be seen that this was a laboratory of sorts, although to call it such did not do justice to the divine power which it possessed. Here was the place where the Einherjar created life. As best as the party could discern, and with Howl’s tentative recollections, the beam of rainbow light which filtered down from above imbued the dark pool with ‘sparks of life’ which gathered in constellations. The spheres appeared to be ‘wombs’, where perhaps a single spark would manifest into a living being.

On closer investigation it could be seen that each alcove contained racks of tools of an origin that seemed alien to the whole chamber. In dirty containers were rusty knives, scalpels and needles, some of the orbs still had such implements protruding from them. Phials of chemicals were also found that gave of a foul odour when opened. Dian Cecht quickly ascertained that whatever the original purpose of this room had been, now it had become a fleshwarping laboratory, probably the source of all the undead that plagued the Swordlands over the last century.

The area around one alcove was covered in blood, as if an orb had exploded, and in another alcove the orb was missing entirely. The party used ritual divination to learn what had occurred here. It was the spirits of the unformed lives in the pool who answered. They spoke in whispers of the only other creatures who had been here in recent times, an Einherjar, and then the Herald of Surtur. The party decided that this was Rivenhart and Siegmund. The explosion had been caused by Siegmund apparently.

When the adventurers finally decided to press on, Howl was quick to point out that a barely visible pair of doors, similar to the ones they had entered by, stood in the wall opposite. Approaching the doors, each of the remaining orbs around the room suddenly began to open.

As the doors silently slid open the adventurers saw beyond a vast circular chamber, apparently hewn from the quartz of the tower by tools of unknowable design. The chamber was some 120’ across, and in the center their attention was drawn to a soft ray of light that descended from the ceiling far, far above them where it’s origin was shrouded in the haze. Within the ray of light, scintilating colours of many hues slowly shifted around one another, spiralling ever downward.

At their level, a series of eight bridges converged through a ring and struck a pool of dark liquid some fifty feet below. The inky black liquid appeared to contain a kaleidoscopic array of tiny lights, many so small they appeared as shimmering nebulae carried on invisible currents. Larger lights winked like stars, such that the adventurers imagined for a moment that they were looking at a reflection of the night sky within the darkness of the pool.

Around the edges of the chamber at the end of each span of the bridge were positioned large alcoves in the quartz walls. In patterns across the floor of each alcove lay faintly glowing inscriptions,s ome form of ancient magical circle at the center of which, on a broad quartz plinth three feet high, rested an exquisite glass sphere, several feet in diameter.

Strangely, they noticed that, within the transluscent quartz walls, multicoloured networks of delicate veins extended from the level of the pool up through the walls, converging on the alcoves around the glass spheres.

If the stories are true, Byfrost, the land above the clouds, is the home of the Einherjar. Some say the Rainbow Bridge, that which joins the heavens and the mortal realms, is the salvation of a doomed world, and that the Legion That Waits are its custodians. Others say that the end of the world is certain, and that salvation lies not within Byfrost’s legendary power.

It was the jealous pursuit of this power that led the kings of men into the bitterest war that the world had ever seen. Sworn to defend mankind against any enemy, the Legion found itself facing a foe it could not defeat, mankind itself. Five centuries ago you left this place as The Promise Of Distant Thunder, Servant of Kord, Soldier of The Legion, and now you have returned, stained in the blood of many enemies, bereft of your faith and your soul.

As you picture in your mind’s eye the great doors of Byfrost opening once more into the chamber beyond you are blinded by a light so pure it burns away your doubt and your fear. Where you long had walked in a veil of sleep, it is the radiant light of Kord, the life-giving power of the Rainbow Bridge that renews you. You feel upon you the gaze of countless souls who have died with honour, their spirits the reflection of the stars of the night sky that dance in ripples upon the waters of the world.

They are calling you, Einherjar, divine servitor of Kord. You have seen worlds born around you and, in many ways, you have been as mother and father to these young lands. You are not only parent, but guardian, for mankind is not given to peace. What matters is that in both life and death we find find strength.

You stand now at the entrance to Byfrost, home of The Legion That Waits. Despite what has been said, it IS the slavation of humanity, it is the cradle of civilisation, the birthplace of mankind. When this world is unmade you will begin your work once more with a purpose as pure and unshakable as the foundations of the Crown itslef, for while you have walked shrouded in the shadow of loss, Kord has never abandoned you, and like a father must await the return of the son, The Lord Of All Strength awaits you now.

Surtur is returned and the end of the world is upon us. Now is the time that the call shall sound from across the Rainbow Bridge and the Einherjar shall be summoned. If there yet remains and Einherjar fit to save mankind, let them now enter this place, let them now face the end with the strength and purpose for which they were made, for such is the will of Kord.

From the foot of the mountain, a long, winding staircase was carved out of the ice. It seemed to weave it’s way up and up until they could look up into the glare no longer. After a moments pause they mustered themselves for the next stage of the ascent. Up and up they climbed along a path which offered no shade nor respite, only the promise of answers that lay ahead.

Many hours they climbed, until their pace slowed to a crawl. Howl found himself in the front, and as he struggled onwards and upwards, calling on all the reserves of his warforged fortitude that he could find, his companions began to notice that smoke was rising form his body. After a gruelling climb they finally clambered onto a small flat plain, where the imposing tower of Byfrost perched on the roof of the world. From here they could see across the tops of the Galdhopiggen glacier and beyond, where rolling clouds formed an ocean of storms as far as the eye could see.

Approaching the tower the adventurers could see what looked like a pair of perfectly smooth double doors in the wall. It appeared that the structure was made not of ice, as it had first seemed, but of some kind of transluscent quartz. The party arrived at the doors and took a moment to study each others countenances.

“Before we enter this place I want you all to understand that, if I am correct, the Crown of Byfrost is the origin of The Curse.” began Aengus gravely. "It is my belief that the fleshwarping that we have encountered with increasing frequency is infact Hel’s magic, although she was not their creator. There was, according to legend, one other being of note who passed through her gates: Rivenhart. It could be that Hel is working through him somehow to bring this undead curse upon the land, although for what purpose I cannot fathom.

“History, at least as far as the stories tell, is as follows: Rivenhart bought an end to the Crown Wars some five hundred years ago. He served as First Knight of Himinborg under a succesion of kings until one day, some two hundred and fifty years ago, he sailed off in search of the gates to the underworld, never to be seen again. A century ago there fell upon the land an undead plague, and ever since these foul creatures have haunted the secret places of the world, always lurking close to where the Einherjar lay in waiting.

“As we ventured closer to Byfrost we encountered more and more powerful fleshwarped undead, but it was not until we discovered the terrible monstrosities that lay within the labyrinth that I my suspicions were aroused. Karl once quipped that perhaps Byfrost was the center of all evil. I fear that he may have been entirely correct.”

Howl had been listening in silence. When Aengus had finished he turned to the doors, reached out and placed his hand upon them.